Dark Angel Wings
by prouvaires
Summary: Why is it me left sidelined as the boy I love falls hard for my best friend? One-shot.


Why?

Why?

Why?

I was once asked to fill a page with philosophical thoughts, a challenge laid down by an RS teacher. And so I did. I wrote one word, over and over.

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why do we act as we do?

Why is it that some of us are destined for great things, while others are left to roll over in despair?

Why is it always me?

Why does Fate like to toy with me? Why does she lay down riches and treasures in my path, then force me to watch as other people snatch them away from under my gaze?

Why me? Have I done something in another life to piss off vengeful Gods up above me? Gods that lounge on clouds and sip at nectar, then with a casual flick of their fingers send another human tumbling down into despair. I would say that I am teetering on the edge, waiting for that flick. But I'm not. I've sent myself down, pushed myself off the edge. And now I'm falling.

Why am I falling? I'm supposed to be the strong one, the indefatigable girl who nothing could stop. But, unfortunately, they found a way. The only way to stop a teenage girl: wait for her to fall in love, and then snatch the object of her desire right away from her.

Why is no-one catching me? The whole point of falling is that someone is there to catch you at the bottom. There's nobody waiting for me to land. The only way I can save myself is to extend dark angel wings and reach for the sky. As with every other loser since the dawn of time, there's nothing but never-ending darkness.

Why is Hollywood convinced that there's going to be a light at the end of the tunnel? They can tell us that the night is always darkest just before the dawn, but they don't _know_. How can they? In their gilded offices, they never step down from their magical, unrealistic world of money and movie-stars to see the world for what it really is. They don't see the girl standing at the foot of the steps, the tears dripping down her cheeks as her dreams are torn away.

Why does everyone forget me? I could stand and shout out about myself to the world, but I don't. And I shouldn't _have_ to. I shouldn't be living in the shadows. I should be walking in the sun, gentle rays dancing across my glowing figure.

Why doesn't the world stop whenever he walks across my field of vision and sighs hopelessly over _her_? The stars should stop shining when I see the proof of his love for another girl that will never love him back. But will he stop loving her? I can tell you that he won't, because_ I'll_ never stop loving _him_.

Why does no-one see that I'm screaming out on the inside? Because inside I'm in agony. I'm writhing and burning with a darkness that will probably never be gone. And there's nothing I can do. All I can do is pretend like everything's okay. Even though it's not, and never will be again.

Why can't I hate her; the girl who is the source of all my troubles? She's my best friend, so I just smile and pretend like everything's okay when I'm watching the boy watching her. I'm pathetic, I know. My bright smile is the falsest thing about me. I can never be bright again: I'm dark all the way through. But I'm not the sort of person who'll release their feelings by hurting themselves or others. That's weakness. Instead I keep on living like I did before; because that's the greatest defiance you can show against this sort of hell.

Why doesn't anyone look into my eyes and see the pain, and then hold me tight and tell me everything's going to be okay? I hate it, I hate it. I don't want this. This isn't how it's supposed to be!

So why is it like this? Why do I look in the mirror and see a parody of myself looking back? The Caitlyn in the mirror looks like she always did, just without the sparkle in her eye. The mirror doesn't reflect my black shroud that clouds my mind and kills my spirit. Love isn't supposed to be like this. It's supposed to be wonderful and magical. If it's magical, it's the magic of the devil.

Why do I love him? Whenever I hear his name called out I turn, hoping to see him looking at me. But of course he's staring at Mitchie as she walks with Shane instead. Why does that break my heart? Why do I love him still?

Why can't I see that maybe someday I'll recover, and there'll be beauty from pain? I guess I believe that I've fallen too far to ever stagger back up. And no-one ever hears the cries of the fallen, not even those of a fallen angel. My dark wings encircle me and block me off from the happy, sunny world I used to live in. Before I fell in love. Before I fell. Before Nate. Before Mitchie. Before I dissolved into darkness. Before.

Why?

Why?

Why?


End file.
